


Prescription for Love

by purpleplusher



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dentist!John, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, alternate first meeting, johnlock au, patient!Sherlock, with a dash of crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-26 12:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17141798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleplusher/pseuds/purpleplusher
Summary: An incidental radiograph leads Sherlock to the discovery of his impacted wisdom teeth and Mrs. Hudson refers him to her personal favourite dentist; Dr. John Watson. Tooth rotting fluff ahead (no pun intended).





	Prescription for Love

'Mrs. Hudson. You're being unreasonable.'

'I am not, dear. That X-ray clearly shows that you need to get it extracted. I remember I got my wisdom teeth removed when I was only 18. Unbearably painful. Ah!'

Sherlock sighs. 'If you think that is going to help my case-'

Mrs. Husdon shrugs off her memories and focuses back on the stubborn man in front of her who is forever reluctant to care about his own self.

'Oh, I am sorry. But you do need to consult with a dentist as soon as possible Sherlock. And I think I might know just the right person.'

*

John finally huffs a breath of relief as the last patient walks out of the door. Three cases of restorations, one root canal and extraction of mandibular second premolars for orthodontic treatment. Overall, it had been a dull shift but he was more than eager to welcome the indulging scents of coffee and cinnamon for a change.

'Alright Linda. I am about to take off. Make sure Mike rechecks the history of Mrs. Waltham again. I don't want another patient lying on my chair the next morning.'

He almost chuckles at the memory just as Linda walks in with a terrified expression.

'Dr. Watson, I am afraid you can't leave. There is a patient outside and I insist Doctor, you need to check him.'

She punctuates every word with the hint of an underlying threat. John stares at her wide-eyed and wonders who the heck has managed to frighten her otherwise calm assistant.

'What's the case?'

'Impacted maxillary third molars.' John shakes his head.

'Oh no no no. That is gonna take about an hour and I am already desperate to get out of here. Besides, my shift is over. Mike will be here in a minute. Ask him to handle this.'

'But Dr. Stamford is not available tonight. He called half an hour ago to inform that he has a family emergency so he won't be able to make it. And I wouldn't insist but-' She leans in closer and brings down her volume to a hushed tone. '-that man out there? He definitely needs a checkup. And after he's done here, I might even refer him to a mental health specialist. God. He is a menace. He has already brought two patients on the brink of tears and if you delay it anymore Dr. Watson, he's gonna turn this place upside-down.'

It's weirdly unsettling that even after this outrageous description, John has a strong urge to meet that man. The day has brought him a challenge at last and he would be an utter imbecile to turn that opportunity down. He grins.

'Alright. Bring him in.'

*  
Sherlock enters the room with a vigorous energy and scans the whole place at one glance. Everything seems to be in perfect order as it should be in a dental office. Unsurprising that the whole place smells of disinfectants. He already wants to throw up. Idiotic of him to succumb to Mrs. Hudson’s pleas and visit her preferred dentist. He turns to walk back outside unnoticed when a middle-aged man in a casual dressing shows up from an adjacent room.

‘Ah! Mr. Holmes. You may put your documents aside and seat yourself on the dental chair. I’ll be right with you in a minute.’

  
With that said, he disappears into the same room without waiting for a response from Sherlock. He stands there befuddled. _Was that the dentist who was supposed to operate him?_ He didn’t stay long but it was enough for Sherlock to formulate at least 13 different deductions about the man, each one of them peculiar from the other. Fascinating.

  
*  
Five minutes later, John walks back into his office carrying a set of sterilized instruments required for general examination. He nearly trips when his gaze falls upon the lean figure draped on his dental chair, with his legs extending beyond the length of the chair. He was in a rush earlier so the only sight he caught was of a swishing black coat. Now the coat hangs over a hook on the wall and the man himself lies on his dental chair in a picturesque fashion. The day is unfolding in a much interesting way than John had deemed.

  
He places the instruments on the operating table and pushes a stool forward to sit on it. The slight clattering of instruments compels the man to uncover his eyes and sit upright. John takes one peek at him and intuitively looks away. There is something different about this man. The whole aura around him smells of finesse and poise. Yet it’s the mysterious eyes that caught John’s attention. He picks up his file instead and skims through his medical history.

  
‘Hmm. Alright, open up.’

  
‘You have just returned from a military dental camp in Afghanistan. The tan line around your wrists plus the way you hold yourself up is evident of your time spent with the army. I was initially confused between Afghanistan and Iraq since multiple underdeveloped countries were selected for dental awareness camps but based on most recent data, Afghanistan is more likely. Affiliation with military services grants you with a much needed dose of adrenaline even though you’re satisfied with your job here. It’s less cumbersome and you get to take off early which is baffling since you don’t have anyone to return to. You’re single and haven’t had a relationship for a long while.’

  
Sherlock casts a look at John and sits back with a smug grin, extremely pleased with himself. John knits his brows together and releases the breath he had been unconsciously holding.

  
‘Mr. Holmes…’

  
‘Sherlock, please.’ John looks up at him and clears his throat again.

  
‘Right. Sherlock. When I said _open up_ , this is not what I meant.’

  
‘ _Oh_.’

  
Sherlock’s eyes falter down in an instant and he blinks several times to shed some of the embarrassment. John can’t help but giggle. Christ, his assistant was right.

  
‘But…that. That was amazing.’ With just one compliment, John can witness the face of his patient lighting up brighter than a Christmas tree.

  
‘You really think so?’

  
‘Ofcousrse I do. It was extraordinary. It was quite extraordinary.’ Sherlock blinks again on cue.

  
‘That’s not what people usually say.’

  
‘What do people usually say?’

  
‘Piss off.’ John breaks into another fit of giggles.

  
‘Had you by any chance got your head smashed into something?’ He asks in a playful manner. It’s completely unusual for his professional façade to slip down during the first five minutes of interaction with his patient.

  
‘Yes. Just last month. I fell hard on a concrete floor while chasing a serial killer and ended up with two mid-facial fractures. The radiographs taken for that purpose lead to the reason for which I am here tonight.’ The dead serious tone with which he replies nearly causes John’s eyeballs to push pass their sockets. He can’t decide whether it was a joke or he actually meant it.

  
‘Sorry what? Did you just say serial killer?’

  
‘Oh yes. I am a consulting detective. The only one in the world.’

  
John figures it would be a better idea to focus on the surgical procedure instead before this man gets anymore beguiling for him to handle. He takes a good look at his radiograph to determine the extent of impaction and association with other anatomical structures.

  
‘Right. The impaction isn’t so deep so it wouldn’t take so long. But just for the safe side, I will need to inject a long-acting anesthetic drug.’

  
He risks a look at Sherlock again and his breath is caught. The expression on Sherlock’s face is of a terrified toddler. His eyes are stuck in a state of trance and his lips contoured in a way as if wordlessly pleading not to inflict this pain upon him.

  
‘So you’ve never been to a dentist before, I gather?’

  
Sherlock remains silent. How can he explain that the only experience he had before at a dental clinic was when he was an eight year old boy. He had fractured his front tooth in an accident and the dentist his parents took him to was a disaster. Ever since then, he swore never to visit any health professional, let alone a dentist again.

  
When Sherlock doesn’t come up with an answer, John decides to follow his assumption and take extra precautionary measures.

  
‘No problem. We’ll start with inhalation anesthesia. A light dose of nitrous oxide gas will sedate you to a semi-conscious state making it easier to tolerate the injection of a local anesthetic. Will you be alright with it?’

Sherlock nods his head and John can hardly overlook the gratitude dribbling from his eyes. He smiles and picks up the mouth mirror. Just when he is about to insert it into Sherlock’s mouth, he bats his hand away.

  
‘What the hell do you think you are doing?’ Sherlock asks in a furious manner, dumping all niceties aside. John is taken back for a second.

  
‘Sherlock I have to examine your teeth before I start anything. This is just a mouth mirror.’ He holds up the said instrument for his confirmation. Sherlock relaxes a bit though John can still notice a tense line across his shoulders.

  
‘Alright. But be careful.’

  
Without giving it a thought, John gently covers Sherlock’s clenched hand on the arm of the chair with his own. It loosens under his touch. So does Sherlock’s scrunched up face.

  
‘I will be. Don’t worry, okay?’ Sherlock nods once again and reclines his head back. It’s a pity that John removed his hand then because Sherlock would have liked to hold onto something. Or someone. He closes his eyes and opens his mouth for John to examine.

  
John carries on the routine work and after a thorough examination, he prepares the device for nitrous oxide sedation. He briefs the whole procedure to Sherlock and affirms him that everything will be fine. Sherlock still seems anxious but for some unknown reason, he chooses to trust John. After another nod of approval, John places an oxygen mask on his face and asks him to take deep breaths. A few moments later, he turns up the dial to let nitrous oxide gas flow into the mask.

  
The first visible sign of sedation is the overall relaxed demeanour of Sherlock followed by slowed responses, eventually followed by intermittent giggles. After two minutes, he breaks into a fit of full-blown hysteria. He picks up random instruments from the operating table and waves them in the air like a pirate's sword. John tries to calm him down but the attempt goes in vain. He suppresses his own urge to laugh because Dear God; he is witnessing the human version of a spotted hyena. No wonder they call it the ‘laughing gas’.

  
He draws near to Sherlock and in a low whisper, asks him about his current state to check the level of his verbal responses. Sherlock halts. He turns towards him and taking advantage of their closeness, nuzzles his nose against John’s. A slow, drowsy drag across the side of his nose and cheek as if he is drawing patterns into John’s skin. John stops breathing.

  
‘Mmmm…you smell good. Why do you smell sooo good Doctor..?’ He immediately looks down at the tag on John’s white coat. ‘ _Doctor Hotson_.’

  
There is mischievous smile tugging at his lips. John looks straight past his eyes to assess whether he is actually serious or flirting under the state of anesthesia. His lids are drooping over his eyes and he is barely able to keep himself upright. John exhales a shaky breath.

  
‘John Watson. And you need to sit back Sherlock. I’ll be back in a minute.’

  
Sherlock grabs his left arm in a strangulating grip which nearly knocks him out. He snuggles his arm over his chest and ducks down his head into his open palm.

  
‘Don’t go John. Pleeease don’t go. Don’t be angry with me. I am teething my brush daily, I promise…’

  
John chuckles. _Teething my brush_. He raises his other hand and gently ruffles through Sherlock’s wild curls. Sherlock snuggles deeper into his palm. John rubs his thumb across his cheekbone in a soothing manner. Lost in the trance of this adorable man-child, he forgets that he needs to dial down the concentration of nitrous oxide. He keeps massaging Sherlock’s scalp until a minute later, the realization hits him.

  
‘Oh shit!’ He rushes to reduce the amount of gas flow to an optimum level. Sherlock nearly cries at the loss of such cuddly comfort but John turns back to him in an instant.

  
‘It’s alright Sherlock. It’s okay.’ He reassures while threading fingers through his hair again. ‘Open your mouth for me. I am going to check your teeth okay?’

  
‘Hmm…kayy.’ Sherlock lets his jaw loose and sticks his tongue out. If that was not endearing enough, he makes an ‘Aaah’ sound for John’s ease. In his entire career, John never had such a delightful patient before. He has dealt with children too but none compares to Sherlock Holmes.

  
He sets Sherlock’s head back, covers his eyes and with his right hand, picks up the syringe. Slowly, he injects the required amount of local anesthetic solution into the most posterior part of his maxilla on both sides. Sherlock feels a slight pinch for a moment but relaxes back down immediately. He lowers the syringe and places it into the used instruments tray.

  
A minute later, he leans closer to Sherlock and uncovers his eyes.

  
‘Sherlock, can you hear me? Can you feel anything?’ He asks as softly as possible not to disrupt Sherlock’s peaceful state.

  
Sherlock opens his eyes and this time, he turns around and kisses him.

  
It starts off as a chaste kiss, but Sherlock delves in for more. John is caught so off-guard that he stills at once. He captures John’s upper lip between his own and struggles to suck it but is unable to do so. Both his lips and tongue feel heavy. A disgruntled sound leaves his mouth. He tries again and fails. He looks up at John with a frown to understand this mystery.

  
‘Why can’t…mmm.. I kishh you John..’ He pouts. John puffs out a hot breath.

  
‘Your lips Sherlock- your lips are numb now.’ Sherlock narrows his eyes and stares at John’s lips as if they are a piece of an unsolved puzzle. He goes for another futile attempt and after a third one, whines and sprawls back down on the chair.

  
John raises his own hand and grazes his fingertips against his lips. Did that just really happen or was he dreaming? He glances at Sherlock again who is almost asleep now. Strange that Sherlock is the drugged one and _he_ is feeling euphoric. John can’t help with the flush that creeps up his cheeks. With a few deep breaths, he calms his racing heart and once satisfied, calls his assistant.

  
Linda walks in a second later and after having one look at him, she raises an inquisitive brow. John shrugs as if nothing happened. She seems unconvinced but doesn’t dwells further. Once the setup to carry out the procedure is complete, John retracts Sherlock’s mouth and begins with the surgery. During the whole procedure, Sherlock remains quiet except for making a few irritated sounds. He has known the man for nearly 10 minutes but by God, does John misses his sinful voice.

  
The surgery takes about 25 minutes and finally after extracting a small piece of root, John places gauze against the wound on both sides. He increases the concentration of oxygen to reverse the effect of nitrous oxide.

  
A few minutes later, Sherlock slowly blinks open his eyes. He still feels at a loss and there is a tingling sensation in multiple parts of his body, especially his toes. _What happened here and why doesn’t he remember a thing?_ He stares at the lady by his side. Linda smiles at him.

  
‘How are you feeling Mr. Holmes? Oh, you’re not allowed to speak yet. Just nod or shake your head. Are you still feeling disoriented?’ Sherlock nods.

  
‘It’s normal. A common side-effect of inhalation sedation. Just sit back and relax for five more minutes and then you’re free to go.’

  
‘Yes. Nothing to worry about.’ A male voice states from his other side. Sherlock looks up and finds the man smiling at him too. Although his smile is different from the woman. Her’s was professional while this seems more…personal. Sherlock reads the name tag again. Dr. John Watson.

  
John writes down a prescription of necessary antibiotics and painkillers and hands it over to Sherlock. He gives him detailed instructions about post-operative wound management and by the end of it, Sherlock gets frustrated enough to just walk out of the place without gazing back. John calls after him but too late. Sherlock had already gotten into a cab which drives away just as he steps onto the kerb. To say that he feels utterly defeated would be an understatement. He lets out an exasperated sigh and walks back into his office.

  
It’s not five minutes into the ride that Sherlock starts to have flashbacks from the previous hour. And it’s not another minute later that he links the pieces together to form the whole picture. _Oh my God_. He swears again to never ever visit a dentist for the rest of his life.

  
*  
Just one last time, he assures himself. Its been a whole week since he had his extraction done but for some reason, he cannot forget about that dentist. The worse part is that he remembers everything, down to the touch of his lips against his own.

  
He plans out the whole scenario to go to his office again, apologize for his juvenile behaviour and walk straight out of the room. Everything is perfectly prepared. The whole speech has been rehearsed at least 28 times before he enters his office. He has got it all under control.

  
Except for the fact that he doesn't know how to utter a word the moment he opens the door into his room.

  
John is reclined over another patient with an ultrasonic scaler in his hand, his mouth and head covered up. The instant Sherlock walks in, he abrupts. The only part visible on his face is his deep blue eyes and they're gleaming to see Sherlock again.

  
Sherlock stands dumbfounded at the entrance for a full minute before John clears his throat to catch his attention.

  
'Dr. Watson. I've come... I've come for another check up.' is all that leaves his mouth.

  
John's eyes squint a little and it's not difficult for Sherlock to discern that he is smiling under his mask. The patient on the dental chair looks from John to this untimed intruder.

  
'Why don't you wait outside for 2 minutes? You see I am a bit busy right now.'

  
'Oh yes of course.'

  
Sherlock almost runs outside into the waiting area and drops his head into his hands. That was not how the plan was supposed to execute. How on earth can _he_ act like a complete idiot? This is preposterous. He will go inside again and just apologize.

  
Exactly 2 mins later, John's assistant informs him about his turn. Sherlock inhales deeply, straightens his coat and walks in.

  
John is still in a mask and his surgical gown. His chest twitches inside for not being able to see John's face. If only he could snap away that hideous mask. He positions himself on the dental chair again.

  
'So Sherlock. What can I do for you?' His tone is laced with professionalism. Sherlock's heart sinks. Maybe John doesn't remember anything at all or maybe it was just a dream, he thinks.

  
'Uhm...I...I have pain in my lower jaw that only occurs at night.'

  
John nods as if he totally understands this made-up problem. He picks up a sterilized mouth mirror from his operating table and asks Sherlock to open his mouth. He does as told. Although he worries that John might be able to hear his loud beating chest from this close proximity. John examines his oral cavity and is not entirely surprised to find everything normal.

  
'Hmm. I think this problem is serious. But don't worry, I'll write you down a medication that will resolve it within a week.' John removes his gloves and grabs a pen to write on his prescription pad. He tears the paper off it once it's complete and gives it to Sherlock.

  
Sherlock just stares at him. He endeavours to come up with something. Something that would make John understand that he likes him. That he has been thinking about him for a whole damn week. That the only pain which keeps him up at nights is the time he has to endure without John now that he has met him.

  
The only thing he comes up with is a 'Thank you.' He snatches the paper from John's hand and turns to stomp outside.

  
'Wait, Sherlock.' John calls from behind and Sherlock freezes. He turns around slowly. 'I forgot to check one thing.'

  
He removes his mask at last and walks closer to him with a straight face. Sherlock sighs. _What can possibly be remaining to check now?_

  
John steps into his aura and without a hint of hesitation, he presses his lips against his own.

  
It's soft. Tender. And not what Sherlock had anticipated at all. He is struck for a moment, unable to discern reality from day-dreaming again. But John presses once more and everything else blurs into the background. His lips move own their own accord, against his better judgement.

  
John inches back a little with a wide grin on his face. He looks into Sherlock's eyes which are lushed with a haze as if he has been drugged again.

  
'Seems like the effect of anesthesia wears off after all.' He smiles and just like that, walks outside, leaving Sherlock dazed on the entrance of his own room.

  
'Oh and don't forget to follow your prescription.' He screams from a distance and then walks away to attend another patient.

  
This brings Sherlock back to his senses and he stares at the crumpled piece of paper in his hand. With shaking fingers, he unfolds it and smoothens out the creases. What's written on it knocks the remaining breath out of his lungs.

  
_dinner at angelo's around eight? dessert's on me ;)_

  
A corner of his mouth twitches up into a genuine smile. He folds the prescription and places it safely in his front pocket. For the first time in his life, he is actually looking forward to relish a dessert without caring. Why would he? He needn't worry about visiting another dentist again. Not when he has gotten one of his own.

**Author's Note:**

> This was fun to write. Phew! Any kudos and comments are much welcome :) Follow me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/purpleplusher) and send me prompts if you have a good one in mind!


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